


Tears

by CatWingsAthena



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mac is a literal phoenix, Captivity, Creepy Villains, Freeze branding, Gen, Implied oppression of magical people, Locator chip, Mentioned Murdoc, Mild Gore, Patricia Thornton is Not A Traitor, Peter Thornton was Patricia Thornton's father, References to original MacGyver, Reincarnation, The villains are OCs, Torture, Well one is creepier than the other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24778483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatWingsAthena/pseuds/CatWingsAthena
Summary: When a phoenix "dies", they burn up and become a baby again, and can regain some memories of their previous lives as they grow.In his many lives, Angus MacGyver has been through a lot. But this... this might be a first.Or, the one where phoenix tears have healing powers, and some unscrupulous individuals out to line their pockets are a little too interested in that fact...
Relationships: Angus MacGyver & Patricia Thornton, Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016) & Riley Davis, Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Wilt Bozer & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 58





	Tears

**Author's Note:**

  * For [N1ghtshade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/N1ghtshade/gifts).



> Hey everybody! This work is for N1ghtshade, who, as always, rocks. N1ghtshade, you are incredible and I'm so glad I know you. Everyone else, you're pretty cool too! Please do mind the tags, and additionally be warned that this work contains references to childhood cancer, guns, and some humiliation. Also, I'm figuring in this universe Mac's last life was a lot like, but not exactly like, original MacGyver. There was no Jack Dalton, for one thing, and he died in 1990, for another. But otherwise, pretty similar. Hope you enjoy!

When Mac slowly returns to consciousness, he remembers.

This isn’t so strange.

He’s lying flat on his back, with his wrists and ankles restrained, arms stretched up over his head.

That’s a first for this lifetime, but it’s definitely happened before.

_ Lying tied to a bamboo frame in the hot sun, smiling when the guard isn’t looking. He could burn through the ropes at any time, and probably should before he gets too thirsty, but he needs to wait for the right moment, and besides, the recharge is nice... _

But... hold on.

There’s a dull, throbbing pain where the restraints hit.

Iron.

_ Shit.  _ That means whoever has him knows what they’re doing.

And that he’s a phoenix.

Which means trouble.

Then, Mac becomes aware of a  _ sharp _ pain near his collarbone.

Whoever it was not only knows he’s a phoenix, they cut his locator chip out.

_ Is it... please don’t let it be... did he find me again? _

If  _ that’s _ the case, Mac is in for... well, he doesn’t really know what. Murdoc’s never been predictable. But it’s bound to be unpleasant.

_ Keep still. Keep your eyes closed. The element of surprise is your best weapon. _

Mac stretches out his senses, gathering information.

The air is still, and smells stale and a bit like bleach. He doesn’t hear any traffic noises, which means he’s either in a soundproofed room or outside the city limits. Neither is good.

Then...  _ oh. _

Someone’s in the room with him.

Mac feels the current of air moving toward him before the hand brushes his face. He thinks he manages to keep still, but...

“I know you’re awake.”

A female voice. Not Murdoc, then. But who?

Mac keeps his eyes shut in case she’s bluffing, but he can’t hide his reaction when she pries one of his eyes open with her fingers.

“Gotcha,” she says, and Mac’s eyes reluctantly blink open.

The woman has long auburn hair streaked with grey that flows around her face, light skin, and large brown eyes which are currently staring him down. Something about her makes his skin crawl—even beyond the fact that she has him shackled to a table.

Then, she smiles, and it’s disconcertingly genuine. “I’m Lucy. What’s your name?”

Mac glares at her.

She nods. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk right away. You’ll get there, I promise.”

There’s a noise from somewhere above them. Lucy turns her head to look, then turns back to Mac, a look of mixed sorrow and pity on her face. “I’m really sorry about this. But I promise, this is the worst part. Once this is over, it’ll all be downhill.”

_ Once what’s over? _ Mac wants to ask but doesn’t. He doesn’t want to give this woman an inch for fear she’ll take a mile.

Lucy keeps talking, that same look of apology in her eyes. “I know my brother’s methods can be a bit... harsh. But this is all for the best. I don’t expect you to see that right away, but you will.”

With that, she backs off a little, but stays present.

A moment later, a man comes into the room, holding... something. Mac can’t see what it is, from his angle. The man sets it down near the table, stands back, and stares.

Mac can see the family resemblance, but there’s an obvious difference as well.

Lucy makes his skin crawl. This man makes his blood freeze.

His eyes are smaller than Lucy’s, sharp and cruel. He stares at Mac like Mac would stare at a bomb to be disarmed—a puzzle, something to be taken apart.

Then, he lifts something from the floor near him.

It’s iron, Mac can tell that much... but with white mist coming off it, and radiating cold.

_ A freeze brand. _ A normal brand wouldn’t work on a phoenix, but using extreme  _ cold _ instead of extreme heat... that’ll work just fine.

Mac tries to read backwards, tries to focus on making out the letters instead of on what’s about to happen. He thinks the iron says “J&L”.

Without warning, the frozen iron is pressed to his forearm.

Mac  _ screams. _

It’s worse than any pain he’s ever felt. It hurts, yes, but more than that, it feels so incredibly  _ wrong. _ The polar opposite of everything good, of everything his nature needs.

Mac is aware of a hand on his forehead, keeping his head still, of something touching his face, but it barely registers.

And it’s  _ not over, God, _ why hasn’t it  _ ended? _ Mac’s not sure how he hasn’t passed out yet, he’s praying he will soon with the tiny part of his brain that’s still capable of thinking about anything other than  _ pain. _

He’s so lost in it that he almost doesn’t notice when the iron is pulled away, because it  _ still hurts _ oh  _ God it still hurts... _

But the keyword is  _ almost. _

He does feel the reduction in the pain, and it’s enough respite to keep him conscious. Which he kind of hates. Because that means he has to deal with the effects for as long as they last.

The man walks away, carrying the iron, and Mac shuts his eyes.

“Shh,” whispers Lucy. “I know, I know. You did great.”

“Screw you,” Mac whispers back.

“It’s okay,” Lucy says gently. “I know you’re hurting. You can let it all out, I don’t mind.”

That’s when Mac realizes he’s crying. More importantly, he realizes that Lucy is pressing something that feels like hard plastic to his face, collecting the tears.

_ Oh no. _

He knows what these people want now.

...

“Where’s Mac?” Jack asks as he stands in the War Room.

“He’s not with you?” asks Bozer. “I thought he was with you.”

Immediately, Jack’s Spidey senses start tingling. Well, okay, they’ve been tingling all morning, but it’s occasionally difficult to distinguish Spidey senses from too much hot sauce, so he’s mostly been ignoring it.

_ Stupid, stupid move. _

“Ri?” Jack says, trying not to sound as frantic as he is. “Can you locate Mac’s chip?”

Riley opens her rig and types frenetically for a few seconds. Then, she looks up, and Jack’s heart drops when he sees her expression.

“What’s wrong?” he cautiously asks.  _ Don’t let him have burned. Please don’t let him have burned... _

“Mac’s chip didn’t register a burn,” Riley says slowly, “but it hasn’t moved in five hours. And it’s registering ambient air temperature.”

“So either...”

“...Someone managed to actually kill Mac, or someone cut it out,” Riley says, finishing Jack’s sentence for him.

Everyone looks at Patty.

Patty nods, face tight. “Go. The mission I called you in for has as of now been assigned to another team. Go bring Mac home.”

...

When Mac hears someone come in, he’s afraid for a moment.  _ Is the man back? _

Then Lucy walks into view, and Mac’s fear mostly morphs into confusion. He didn’t notice her leaving.

“Glad you’re awake,” Lucy says.

That’s odd. Mac doesn’t remember falling asleep either.

“How are you feeling?” asks Lucy. “I know it still hurts, but is it any better?”

Mac just glares.

“That’s okay. I understand.” Lucy raises a green plastic cup with a bendy straw in it. “I brought you some water.”

Mac doesn’t want to take it. But he is thirsty. And he knows his body needs fluids to help it heal from the trauma it’s just been through.

Reluctantly, he opens his mouth.

Lucy smiles and slips the straw in, and Mac starts sipping the water.

“Angus MacGyver,” says Lucy, brushing a hand across Mac’s forehead, and Mac stops mid-swallow. “I hear you’re very clever. And you had such loyal friends—”

Mac’s heart stops.  _ Had? _ “What did you do to them?” he whispers.

Lucy stops short. “Nothing! Nothing. I’m sorry if I scared you. They’re fine. They’re just not your friends anymore.”

Mac looks her in the eye. “What do you mean?”

“You’re with us now. I know this is a difficult thing to hear, but... your old life? It’s over. You’re staying here until you burn. You won’t always be on this table—you’ll get more privileges as you learn to cooperate—but you’re never going back. So you might as well accept that whatever you knew is gone.”

Mac blinks. “You’re insane.”

“Not really,” Lucy replies. “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, isn’t it? And I’m not doing  _ that.” _ She gives Mac an unreadable look. “You think you’re the first?”

With that, Lucy takes the cup of water, leaving Mac frantically scheming and hoping his team are on their way.

His team are on their way.

They’ll find him.

...

Bozer, Riley, and Jack stand on the side of I-5, staring at a bloody clump of flesh with a small piece of gleaming metal sticking out.

“Whoever did this was northbound,” says Riley. “I’m pulling traffic cams and satellite, but... I doubt I’ll find anything.”

“Well, try,” says Jack.

“That’s what I’m doing,” Riley snaps.

Bozer leans down, hands gloved, and picks up the chunk, trying not to be sick at the thought of someone doing this to his best friend. Phoenix tracking chips are located under the collarbone, which means whoever did this not only knows Mac is a phoenix, they know quite a lot about phoenix registry procedures—and anatomy, to do this without severing any vital arteries and killing Mac.

The idea that maybe they  _ weren’t _ that good—that they got the chip out of Mac fast and he burned a bit later—doesn’t bear thinking about.

Riley looks up, face crumpled. “I tried cross-referencing the movements of the chip with cars on the road, but... it was tossed at rush hour, and the resolution’s not high enough for me to tell which car it came from. I’ll try tracing farther back, but...”

Jack nods. “We’ll find him.”

...

The next time Lucy comes in, she has her brother with her.

He’s holding a knife.

Mac swallows, trying not to let his fear become visible.

“You might’ve guessed why you’re here by now,” Lucy says. “Any thoughts?”

Mac doesn’t reply.

Lucy doesn’t seem bothered. “I don’t need to tell you how precious phoenix tears are. We collect them and sell them to those in need.”

Mac gives her a murderous look. “Let me guess, you exploit desperate people for all they’re worth.”

“We charge a reasonable fee,” says Lucy, “but that’s fair compensation for the work involved.”

“Do the buyers know how you’re getting these tears?”

“Most don’t ask. Besides, even if you don’t like our clients, many of them are buying the tears for someone else. You’re not going to punish innocent people for the sins of their loved ones, are you?” Lucy holds a picture in Mac’s line of sight. It’s a bald, sick-looking child, smiling weakly for the camera. “Our most recent clients are the parents of a little girl with lymphoma. They’ve been putting the tears in with her chemo. They just need a little more, and she’ll be well again.”

Mac shuts his eyes. It’s impossible to lie in the presence of a phoenix. Which means Lucy has to be telling the truth.

“I can... I’ve been trained to cry on cue,” Mac says. “I was never very good at it, but...”

Lucy smiles. “Go ahead.”

Mac tries. But nothing happens.

After about thirty seconds, Lucy frowns. “I’m sorry, but... it looks like you’ll need some help.”

Mac thinks about suggesting they put dust in his eyes, like he sometimes does to heal Jack, but... if the tears are going into the bloodstream of a sick child, having dirt in them isn’t the best idea.

He hates this. But he nods.

Lucy’s brother steps forward, and, without warning, the knife he holds slashes down Mac’s side, cutting through his shirt and skin.

A moment later, he rubs something into the cut, and...

This is what people mean when they say something  _ burns. _

Mac’s gut reaction is to hold the tears back. He’s so used to shoving back his emotions that it’s hard to let go, not to fight the tears that well up in his eyes, to let them fall. He hates to seem weak.

But he knows it’s necessary.

He thinks of the little girl, of her desperate parents, and lets the pain take him under, feeling the tears spill down his face.

“Very good,” Lucy murmurs as she carefully collects them. “I know, I know it hurts. But you’re doing great. You’ll get the hang of this yet.”

Part of Mac wants to spit an invective at her, but he doesn’t.

...

Patricia Thornton stands in the desert.

“Hey dad,” she says to the general area where she scattered his ashes. “I just needed to tell you... Mac is missing. He’s been gone three days and we can’t find him. I’m not giving up, I’m still looking. I promised you I’d look out for him, and I will. But... I also came to ask for help.” She sits down on a rock. “You’ve known him longer than I have. So, if there’s anything you know that might help... if you can guide me...” She breaks off. “What am I doing?” She shakes her head. “You were right, you know. About everything. He’s an absolute pain to wrangle, but he grows on you. And... I hoped putting him with a team would keep him safer... not that Dalton gave me much choice...” She snorts. “But I guess he’s a trouble magnet no matter what, huh?”

The wind whistles.

“Tell you what. When I find him, I’ll bring him here. Get you two reacquainted. Sound good?”

The sun shines hot on her scalp, her dark hair soaking up the warmth.

“All right, talk soon.”

She stands, leaves, and doesn’t look back.

...

It’s been four days since he was taken, and Mac is wilting.

It’s not the torture. It’s not the iron. It’s not the scant food (he gets plenty of water—they want to keep him hydrated so he keeps producing enough tears, he figures). It’s not even being unable to move (except when Lucy lets him up to relieve himself into a bucket, after making him promise not to leave, harm her, or harm himself—phoenixes can’t lie any more than others can lie while near them).

It’s the lack of  _ sunlight. _

It’s dark, wherever he is. He suspects he’s in a basement of some sort. The only light is from a lamp in the corner, and it’s the wrong spectrum to be useful—even then, Lucy and her brother (whose name Mac has since learned is Jerome) keep it turned off when they’re not there.

And it’s killing him.

Mac is just starting to wonder why they haven’t done something about that if they want to keep him around when Lucy comes in, carrying something Mac recognizes.

A sun lamp.

She sets it up over his face, then, without further ado, flicks it on.

The rush of light and warmth after so long without is dizzying. Mac moans, then immediately shuts his eyes and turns his head away from Lucy. He can’t believe she heard that.

But he couldn’t help it. It feels  _ so good. _

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Lucy murmurs, echoing Mac’s thoughts. “I’m sorry we waited so long.” She brushes Mac’s hair out of his eyes, and the humiliation of her seeing him like this is so intense he almost starts crying.

And then he does start crying, because there’s no point fighting it. It’s only going to help people if he lets it happen, so why wouldn’t he?

“It’s okay,” says Lucy gently. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

As Lucy collects the tears, she hums a tune Mac doesn’t recognize, and he cries harder.

He’s never been more confused in his life. Any of them. Because this all feels so wrong, but he knows he’s doing something right.

...

The days turn to weeks, and Riley and the others still haven't found any sign of Mac.

It’s wearing on all of them. Jack is constantly on edge, Bozer seems to be just going through the motions of everything he does; hell, even  _ Thornton _ isn’t herself.

Riley doesn’t know how anyone’s perceiving  _ her,  _ but she knows it can’t be pretty.

She’s trawling the dark web, up late for the umpteenth night in a row, when she finds it.

It’s an old advertisement. Established before Mac went missing, although still active.

But it’s for  _ phoenix tears. _

Riley sets the ball rolling to pose as a buyer, then picks up the phone and calls Jack.

It’s a long shot. But it’s all they’ve got.

...

Mac paces the room, wondering when Lucy and Jerome will be back.

He doesn’t have to lie on the table all the time anymore. There’s just one cuff around his wrist, more symbolic than anything, and it gives him the freedom to move about when he wants. Lucy’s bathed him and given him new clothes a few times, which is humiliating but also kind of nice. The sun lamp comes in every other day, as does the food. He wishes there were more, but he understands. The low blood sugar and sun deprivation make him cry more easily.

It’s still not exactly  _ easy, _ the things Jerome does to make the tears fall, but it’s not so awful, either. He doesn’t need to be as harsh anymore. Opening a few cuts and rubbing something mildly caustic in generally does it. Mac’s arms and sides are covered in the wire-thin scars. Not that it matters.

It’s not like anyone other than Lucy or Jerome is ever going to see them.

His team aren’t coming. He’s accepted that. And, honestly, he’s not sure he wants them to. They wouldn’t let him keep using his tears to help people, he’s sure.

And that’s what he  _ should _ be doing, right?

Some nagging voice in the back of his mind reminds him that he saved a lot of lives before, too. But... it’s easier to ignore it. Going back to that life isn’t a possibility. So he might as well not think about it.

A noise from upstairs.

Gunshots.

Heavy boots.

_ What’s happening? _

Mac stands still, unsure what to do.

Then, someone comes down the stairs. Someone incredibly familiar.

_ Jack. _

Mac turns away. He doesn’t want Jack to see him like this.

Jack rushes to Mac and holds out his arms, obviously wanting to hug Mac but afraid to. “Oh, thank God.” Jack picks up a radio from his belt. “Package in hand. I repeat, package in hand.” He’s smiling. “You had us worried there, kiddo.”

Mac doesn’t know what to feel. Some part of him is beyond grateful to see Jack, but another part of him is scared of what this means.  _ Are Lucy and Jerome dead? What’s going to happen to their clients? _

“Did... did you find anyone upstairs?” Mac asks hesitantly.

“Yeah, we did,” says Jack. “A man and a woman. They’re both dead.”

And Mac doesn’t  _ mean _ to, but when he hears that he starts crying, and there aren’t any vials around,  _ no, _ he can’t waste the tears,  _ oh, wait... _

“Jack, your shoulder,” says Mac, wiping the tears off his face and smearing them on Jack’s shoulder, under his vest and shirt. “You won’t throw it out anymore, why,  _ why _ did I never do that...”

“Kiddo, what...” Then a look of comprehension spreads over Jack’s face, followed by fury. “If they got you convinced you’re only worth your magic tears, that’s a load of bull, okay? You’re a person, and what they did to you was  _ wrong.” _

Mac sniffles. “I know what they did to  _ me _ was wrong, but...”

“No. No buts. You deserve to have a life. And nothing,  _ nothing _ could  _ ever _ excuse taking that away from you, you hear me?”

Mac nods faintly, then feels his legs give out underneath him.

Jack catches him.

“Hey,” he says. “Hey, it’s gonna be alright. You’re going home now.”

Mac nods into Jack’s shoulder as the tears keep running down his face. “Home?” he whispers.

“Yeah, kiddo,” Jack replies in a soft voice. “Home.”

...

Patricia Thornton and Mac stand in the desert.

It’s been a week since Mac came home. A long week for him, Thornton knows. A week of counselors and evaluations and more crying than she had ever thought the man capable of. Still, she knows it’s nothing compared to the nearly a month that preceded it. So she thought she’d give him some time.

But she does have a promise to keep.

“Why are we here?” Mac asks, head tilted to the side.

“This is where I scattered my father’s ashes,” Thornton replies. “Peter Thornton. You worked with him in your last life.” She smiles. “I believe you knew him as Pete.”

That gets a tiny smile out of Mac. “Pete. I remember him.” He looks around. “Hey, Pete.”

“I promised him I’d take you here when we got you back. I told him when you were missing, and...” She takes a breath. “I wanted to show him you made it home.”

Mac’s eyes well up at that, and he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I... I shouldn’t be like this...”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

They stand together in silence for a moment.

And the desert sun and wind dry the tears from Mac’s face.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! I hope you liked this! If you did, I'd love it if you could let me know below!


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